1 AM
by bobalee
Summary: It's one in the morning in Marco's dorm when he's struck by an uncontrollable desire to aggressively make out with his best friend, Jean Kirschtein. Memories resurface but the whole point of the story is that they're feeling each other up. That's it. It's vague af soft yaoi but it's somewhat clean. None of the characters belong to me and neither does the entire AoT franchise.


****DISCLAIMER: JEAN, MARCO, AND THE ENTIRE ATTACK ON TITAN FRANCHISE DO NOT BELONG TO ME. THANK YOU.****

 ** **This is a JeanMarco college AU, in case ya'll didn't know.****

 _This is so wrong,_ was the second thing Jean was thinking when Marco's lips traced his spine. His first thought was actually a wreck of hormones and _ohmygodthisfeelssogoodwhendidhelearntodothat_ or something along those lines. They were tangled together in Marco's bunk in his dorm room. His roommate would be back anytime now, but Jean wasn't concentrating on that. More on the feel of freckled hands wreaking havoc on his thoughts and body as they slid down his torso. More on the faint press of warm lips against the shell of his ear. More on everything that was _him_ and not enough on everything that wasn't. This was supposed to be a study session for Professor Hanji's test tomorrow with a heavy emphasis on study. However, it seemed that somewhere between Marco's repeated attempts to teach Jean the various anatomical structures of a goddamn platypus and Jean's sleep-glazed eyes latching onto Marco's frame backlit by the desk lamp, they found themselves in a tangle of teeth, arms, and legs. Clothes were torn off and it _definitely_ wasn't because of the broken AC in the dorm that refused to cool the overheated room.

All Jean could think about was how he saw Marco in his underwear when he was five and this same boy, now nineteen and also in his underwear, was dragging his lips over Jean's collarbone. He could remember the summers spent at his friend's house with Gameboys and failed tickle attacks. He remembered warm tan hands smoothing band-aids over his scraped knees and hastily scribbled notes that were exchanged during class when the teacher's back was turned. Doe brown eyes that crinkled up with every grin thrown his way and at every snarky joke he cracked, the other boy's mouth would tilt and breathe out soft open-mouthed laughter. Strong arms holding him back from attacking yet another smug-faced asshat and gentle fingers probing the violet bruises littering his face and arms. When Marco's body pressed flush against his and it seemed like they couldn't get close enough any longer, Jean let himself fall apart in the taller boy's grasp.

Marco felt like imploding again and again every time Jean's fingers carded through his hair and every time he heard his name whispered brokenly into the emptiness of the dorm. Marco groaned and buried his face into the crook of Jean's neck and he felt the smaller frame under him tremble. He felt a feather light touch on his jaw and looked down to see honey eyes boring into his own. What was he doing? Was it supposed to feel like this with his best friend? He felt memories play out in the back of his mind and he let his lips and hands wander. _Here,_ in the palm of Jean's hand, in the indent of his ribs, in the push and pull rhythm of his lips, it felt like _home_. His mouth, where sharp sarcasm and sincere apologies lingered. The slant of his narrow amber eyes that used to harden with anger at his rivals were now softened in the dull glow of the campus lamplights streaming into the room. His hair that he decided to dye the top portion of blonde in their junior year of highschool was soaked with sweat and plastered to his forehead. And his hands that drew deep scratches into his back, graceful and harsh all at once. All those parts of him peppered every memory they had together and when Jean was pressed so close to him that he could feel every tremor and breath run through the other boy's body, he felt something in him sigh and fall away.

Ten minutes have ticked by and the two were still buck naked in Marco's bed, the blanket in disarray over their sweaty bodies. They spent a good portion of those ten minutes talking, with Jean letting his head list on Marco's shoulder and Marco with his arm wrapped around Jean's slender waist.

"So...when did you feel that way about me?" Jean wondered and his eyes darted up to meet Marco's.

"I guess...a while? I don't know, it never happened just like that. I only wanted to be with you and we already were sort of together? It was always like this, I suppose," Marco finished, a faint blush tinting his cheeks.

"Oh. I-" Suddenly Jean was cut off by the sound of the doorknob jiggling and turning. "Oh shit."

Marco was the first to leap off the bed and wrestle on his pants and shirt. Then Jean hobbled down after Marco and pulled his pants on right before the door burst open.

"Jesus, Connie!" Jean yelped as he fell onto his side.

"Dude, you're shirtless," the bald male pointed out with a barely concealed snicker, "And Marco, I can see the condom package in the trash. Way to be subtle bro."

Marco's face burned a deep red as he pushed his hair to the side and Jean rolled his eyes but could not hide the dark flush that colored his cheeks.

"Whatever dude, but at least we don't leave stains in your bed," Jean huffed.

"Hey! That was only one time and Sasha brought Burger King!"

 **I don't know what I wrote or what even happened. ;n; I'm gonna call this a warm-up? I don't know T-T, but please enjoy and if you did, remember to leave a review and favorite!**


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